The Trouble With Miracles
by ReillyJade
Summary: Four years after Kristoff and Anna welcomed their daughter into the world, they're finally about to have the second baby they've tried and prayed for, but all blessings come with a price. When unforeseen trouble arises, Kristoff is faced with the possibility of his worst fear coming alive, and waiting is the most vicious game.
1. Chapter One

___DISCLAIMER:_ All of the places and characters in this story belong to Disney and are inspired by the work of Hans Christian Andersen. No profit is being made from this story. It only serves to (hopefully) entertain_.___

Rated T for some sensuality, language, and topics that may be upsetting/unsettling in nature. Trigger warning: pregnancy and childbirth.

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><p><em><strong>Chapter One<strong>_

"Oof."

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just a bit crampy, and there's the occasional kick. Nothing unusual."

"It's been happening a lot today, though. You sure you're alright?"

Anna was laying beside Kristoff in their bed, massaging her heavily rounded belly through her cotton nightdress. She shifted her gaze toward her husband, azure eyes narrowed and mouth curled up into an all-knowing smirk.

"Kristoff, I'm fine. Don't worry."

"You say that as if it were a legitimate option," he argued.

"It is!" she laughed. "It's sweet than you're concerned, but really, I'm okay. We're _both_ okay. Remember how many nights Petra kept me up with her kicking? This is tame by comparison."

"Yeah, but still..." Kristoff huffed.

Kristoff knew she was right; he remembered all too well how many nights Anna went with little sleep during her first pregnancy thanks to their unborn daughter making a habit of dancing after sunset. This one, at least, seemed to recognize the importance of resting at night.

"Still what?"

"It's my job to worry about you," Kristoff murmured, reaching a hand over to rub her tummy.

Anna smiled. "I know."

Kristoff winced as Anna groaned again and squeezed her eyes shut for just a moment. The baby wasn't due for a few more weeks, but Anna's discomfort was already escalating at what seemed like a much faster pace than it had the first time around. Kristoff's massages could only do so much for her swollen ankles and back pains, and he desperately wished there was more he could do. He felt incredibly useless sometimes.

"Ooh," she hummed, "I hope she doesn't know how much trouble she's causing me. I don't want her feeling bad."

Kristoff smirked. Right around the time her tummy had begun to show, Anna told him she was sure they were going to have another daughter; she'd said she could just feel it. Kristoff honestly didn't care what gender their second child turned out to be, but he'd countered her for fun, and the banter about it had been a playful game between them ever since.

"Anna, please stop referring to our son as _she."_

_ "_Still convinced it's a boy, huh?"

"I _know_ it's a boy," Kristoff laughed. "It has to be! We already have a girl."

"That doesn't mean anything! We can have two girls."

"I know," Kristoff continued with a chuckle, "but this time, we're having a son, and he's going to look just like me. You'll see."

"That's not fair!" Anna whined. "What about me?"

"What do you mean?"

"We already have one that looks just like you. I want this one to look like me!"

"Are you saying our daughter looks like a boy?" he joked.

"Of course not!" Anna chortled. "But she has your hair, your eyes, your smile... your _everything_! The only thing she gets from me is her nose!"

"Good thing, too. I wouldn't wish my nose upon anyone."

"Hey! I love your nose." She leaned over to give it a quick kiss before doing the same to his lips.

"Well, that makes one of us."

"Oh, hush. Anyway, I still disagree. This one's going to look like me. And it's a girl. End of discussion."

"Well, we'll see. I just wish it could be sooner."

"Yeah," Anna agreed wistfully, closing her hand over his. "It's been so long."

"Worth the wait, though," he whispered. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

Kristoff snuggled up beside her, slipping one arm around her shoulders while leaving the other at her middle and continuing its gentle rub of her swollen belly. Anna was quiet, save for the occasional moan of discomfort. She soon closed her eyes, seeking slumber. Kristoff would sleep eventually, but Anna needed it more; if staying awake and massaging her achy belly was going to help her acquire some much-deserved rest, he'd be damned if he didn't do it.

"Kristoff?" Anna whispered after a while.

"Hm?"

"Maybe I'm gassy."

He chuckled against her skin.

"Want me to pat your back instead?" he teased. "Pretend you're an infant?"

"No!" she laughed, playfully smacking him on the forearm. "I think I'm just going to walk around for a bit."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. That helps sometimes."

Kristoff lifted his head, raised an eyebrow, and grinned.

"You're hungry, aren't you?"

"Hm?"

"You're not _just going for a walk_. You're going to the kitchen."

"No, no. I mean, I don't know... I _may_ walk by there. You know, since I'll already be up, I guess I can grab a little snack. Stop laughing at me!"

"I'm not laughing at you!" Kristoff defended through his smile. "I just think it's funny that you still feel the need to make up excuses to get food. If you're hungry, you're hungry."

"Okay, fine," Anna relented. "I could eat."

"Let me get something for you. What do you want?"

Kristoff made to get up, but Anna placed a soft hold on his arm.

"No, I've got it. I wasn't kidding about the walk. I really could use one."

"Anna-"

"Kristoff, it's okay. I can't just lay here when my belly is hurting. I need to move."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

They kissed before Anna heaved herself off the bed. She teetered on the spot for a moment before stretching out her arms.

"Want anything for yourself?" she yawned.

"Nah, but thanks."

"Okay. Please try to sleep," she urged.

Kristoff watched her waddle adorably toward the door for a moment before closing his eyes and leaning back against his pillow. Though he felt guilty about it, he knew sleep would come easily that night. He was so comfortable, so warm, so _blissful_...

"Aargh!"

Upon hearing Anna's strained cry, his eyes snapped open, widening in horror at the sight of her crouching beside the door and clutching her belly. Kristoff was out of bed and at her side in an instant, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and holding her free hand. Her eyes were squeezed shut and she was holding her breath.

"Anna!" he cried. "Are you okay? Are you alright? What's wrong?"

"I'm okay," she breathed. "Just a big kick. That's all. She's a strong one."

Kristoff tightened his arm around her shoulders.

"Anna, that wasn't a kick," he murmured. "Kicks don't bring you to your knees."

"This one did. I'm fine. H-help me up, please."

"Anna-"

"Please, Kristoff. I'm okay."

True to her stubborn nature, Anna began to slowly lift herself off the floor, and he kept a supportive hold on her.

"Anna," he began, "are... are your pains starting?"

"No," she firmly declared. "They can't be. It's-"

She stopped suddenly, glaring at her feet, and Kristoff followed her gaze. They both stared for a moment in disbelief, because it simply couldn't be true: Anna's bare feet were surrounded by a puddle of apparent water.

"...too soon," she finished in a whimper. "No..."

"Anna," Kristoff said, "we need to send someone to fetch the midwife."

"But Kristoff... it's too early. Too early..."

He ignored her as he tugged open the door.

"We need some help up here!" he called out into the corridor, refusing to leave Anna's side. "Someone! Please!"

"Kristoff, stop," Anna pleaded through heavy breaths. "It can't be time yet..."

"Obviously, it is," he argued gently, "and we need to get Ingrid here, now."

"Sir? My lady?" Kai had arrived in the doorway, and he gasped at the sight of Anna, still hunched over and unsuccessfully trying to appear as if she was perfectly fine. "My lady! Is everything alright?"

"Kai, please send immediate word to Ingrid," Kristoff urged. "We need her now."

"Right away, Sir."

As Kai bolted from the room and down the corridor, Anna cried out again and clung to Kristoff's shirt.

"Kristoff," she panted, "this can't happen... not now... what if something's wrong? It's too soon..."

"It-it'll be okay," Kristoff answered with as much confidence as he could muster, though he, too, was slowly falling into a panic. It _was _early, unless they somehow miscounted, and it had taken an awfully long time for her to become pregnant again...

But he couldn't let Anna see that he was worried, too. He had to be brave for her. She was scared enough without him piling on the worry.

"But what if it's not?"

"Everything's going to be alright," he assured her. "I'm going to lift you up and carry you down to the room, okay? Ready?"

When Anna nodded, Kristoff carefully scooped her up into his arms, and her head tumbled against his chest. The same spare bedroom on the second floor where Petra was born had once again been prepared for such an event, having been completed weeks before by several of the maids. Anna groaned again, and Kristoff could only assume another wave of pain was washing through her tiny body.

"Anna?" he said, and he grinned when she opened her eyes for him. "We're having another baby."

He felt himself relax a little when Anna offered him a small smile through her agony. It was short lived, however, because she squeezed her eyes shut again and whimpered. Kristoff walked as fast as he could to the room where they'd welcome a child for the second time.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> As you can probably tell, I'm taking a mini-vacation from Kristanna Fluff Land to play with flangst again. I've been eager to write this one for a while! Thanks for reading! :)


	2. Chapter Two

_**Chapter Two**_

Within an hour, Kristoff found himself outside the door to Anna's chamber. Ingrid, the midwife, had arrived shortly before, and she was currently examining Anna to ensure that everything was in good order. He'd excused himself so Anna could be properly tended to, and he was now patiently waiting to be allowed back in.

It was quite the contrast to the way he'd behaved when Anna was preparing to deliver Petra four years before. That night, he'd anxiously paced the corridor, desperate for news and panicking because he wasn't permitted to be in the room. Men, as per tradition, weren't allowed in the birthing chamber, but after much grovelling on his part and an eventual blessing from both Anna and Ingrid, he'd been welcomed into the room so long as he swore to abide by some rules. Kristoff was only there for the birth itself then, but this time, he planned on being there for everything; he'd be right by Anna's side through all of her pains.

He was still nervous, of course, but he felt better knowing he wouldn't have to fight his way into the chamber this time around. Yes, it seemed early, and yes, things were moving fast, but it helped to know he could at least hold Anna's hand through it all. Kristoff wondered if it would end up being more of an aid to his own nerves than hers.

"Sir?"

Ingrid stepped out of the room and approached Kristoff with small steps, hands tucked in the pockets of her starch white apron.

"How is she?"

"The Princess is doing well," Ingrid confirmed. "Her pains are accelerating a bit quicker than normal, but they are patterned and last for the typical amount of time. So far, everything appears to be fine."

"So far?" Kristoff queried. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I did not say it to alarm you, Sir, but one can never be too cautious when a mother's pains begin early."

"So she _is_ early," Kristoff sighed. He'd been hoping they'd simply counted wrong.

Ingrid nodded. "Judging by her size, I'd say three weeks at the very least."

"Is... is that bad?"

"Hopefully not. We just need to be more vigilant, that's all. But remember, Sir, that things can go wrong even when the child is carried to term. Just because a mother is early does not guarantee peril for herself or the child, so there's no need to panic. Perhaps the child has merely inherited its mother's impatience."

"Okay," he breathed, though it came out more shaky than he would have liked. He knew Ingrid was just trying to lighten the mood and help him relax, but his heart was thundering against his chest so hard that he could almost hear it echoing in his ears. If anything happened to Anna...

"Sir, I promise, the Princess is well, and as far as I can tell, so is the child. Do you intend to be with her as you were for Petra's birth?"

"Yes," Kristoff responded in haste. "Though I was hoping I could be with her for all of it this time around?"

"The Princess expressed the same wish," Ingrid said with a smile. "However, the same rules still apply, Sir. As I told you four years ago, childbirth is-"

"A women's event," Kristoff finished for her. "I know. I'll remain relaxed and stay quiet unless I'm spoken to. If told to leave by either you or Anna, I will do so, no questions asked. I'm not allowed to linger for long once the child is born because... I forgot why, actually."

"The afterbirth and the child's first nursing," Ingrid politely reminded him.

"Right, that. Anyway, I'll leave shortly after. Did I miss anything?"

"No, you got everything," she conceded with a smile. "Feel free to go right in. If her timing stays as is, she should be in a lull for now with no heavy pains. I must gather a few extra supplies, so I'll allow you two some privacy before I reenter."

"Thank you," Kristoff said sincerely. "For everything."

Ingrid bowed her head. "It's an honor, Sir. I will see you soon."

After they parted ways, Kristoff stepped into Anna's chamber and quietly closed the door behind him. She was sitting up in the colossal bed, back propped up against several regal pillows and legs tucked beneath the quilt for the time being. She was still wearing her cotton nightdress and was gingerly rubbing her belly through it. She smiled when she saw him walk in.

"Hello," she cooed.

"Hi."

Kristoff was relieved to hear her voice was normal rather the frightened, wavering mess it had been when he carried her to the room. A chair was placed beside the bed for him and he took it, reaching out to grab one of her free hands.

"How are you feeling?"

"Not too bad. The pains are... well, painful, but that's to be expected, of course."

"And... and your nerves?"

"Oh, much better now that Ingrid's here," Anna hummed. "I guess you could say I'm the normal amount of nervous now!"

"Me, too," Kristoff lied.

He tried to be positive like Anna and Ingrid, but there was a small bit of panic throbbing in the back of mind. When Anna first went through childbirth, of course he'd worried that something might go wrong, but that fear was a lot less subtle this time. Not only was the child early, but the fact remained that four years was an unusually a long time for two young, healthy people to conceive again. Even news of Anna's first pregnancy didn't come to the surface until well after their first wedding anniversary. What if something really _was_ wrong?

Nonetheless, he pushed it aside. He had to be brave for Anna, be _strong_ for Anna. He also reminded himself that Petra had been born safely and his wife made it through the ordeal with no issues at all.

_But Anna was able to carry Petra to term_, he thought. _This one's early. What if... what if... oh, stop it. Just stop, will you?_

"I wish Elsa was here," Anna murmured in a wistful tone. "She's going to be so upset once she comes home to a new niece without having been here for the birth!"

"Nephew," Kristoff cheekily corrected her with a grin; Anna rolled her eyes and laughed. "But in all fairness, she's had this trip planned for a while, and I doubt she expected this to happen so soon."

"I know, but I do like having- ARGH!"

Kristoff felt Anna's hand tightly grip his own as her pains resumed. Her face was bathed in crimson as she squeezed her eyes shut and began to take deep breaths as steadily as she could muster. Meanwhile, Kristoff helplessly rubbed his thumbs against her hand and whispered words of love to her, all in an attempt to be soothing; his actions didn't appear to work all that well.

"Oh," she gasped a minute later, reopening her eyes, "that was a strong one."

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. That one just came on rather suddenly quickly. I wasn't expecting it."

"Are... are things picking up?" Kristoff asked, holding his breath.

"Maybe, but it could have been a fluke. It happened a couple of times with Petra, too. Pains out of the pattern."

"Okay," he breathed. "Okay."

"But," she continued, "I do feel like this one's going to go a whole lot faster."

"Is that bad?"

"No way! Petra took forever. Such a slowpoke, that one. Trust me, the sooner this is over, the better I'll feel."

"Well, good. I want you feeling better. And I can't wait to meet our son."

"Daughter!" Anna chirped. She pulled his hand to her lips and softly kissed the back of it. "Thank you for being here with me."

Kristoff smiled as his insides melted into a warm, delightful puddle of affection for Anna. He slightly lifted himself off his chair so he could lean in and softly caress her lips.

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be," he murmured sincerely. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

"And this is all still so amazing, you know."

"What is?"

"Just... well, this." He reached his free hand across her so he could place it on her tummy, because heaven knew his opportunities to do so were dwindling with each passing moment. "We _made_ this. It's incredible."

"Oh, don't get all sappy on me, Bjorgman. We've been through this already," Anna teased. She was giggling despite the inevitable softness emerging her eyes and pinkening of her cheeks. Kristoff knew she loved when he said sweet things like that.

"Hm, you're probably right," Kristoff played along. "I don't want our son coming out thinking his father is nothing but a hopeless romantic."

"Oh my gosh, will you stop?" she laughed. "You're making my tummy hurt!"

"That's his fault, not mine."

"Kristoff!"

Such repartee between them consumed much of the next few hours. Kristoff winced and held her hand when her pains returned, but during her lulls, he did everything he could to help her relax and feel comfortable. He joked with her and made her smile. It was all he could do, but it seemed to help. Even as the pains grew stronger and occurred on a more frequent basis, Anna remained calm and collected. Kristoff even caught Ingrid attempting to conceal a smile as Anna laughed; he saw that as a victory. He almost forgot about how worried he was.

The fear came spiraling back a couple of hours later. Out of nowhere, Anna's pains began to accelerate at a remarkable speed, and she complained that something didn't feel right. Kristoff tried to quell her concern by reassuring her the discomfort was normal and that he was right there to hold her hand until the end, but she insisted the sensation was different... and _wrong_.

It was nearly dawn when the time came for Anna to push. By that point, Marta and Bergitta, Ingrid's two assistants who had been present for Petra's birth, had arrived. While they bustled around the room, Kristoff remained at Anna's side, desperately trying to keep his nerves in check for his wife's sake. By this time, she was crying, _sobbing_ in agony, continuously voicing that something wasn't right. He wanted to scream at Ingrid and her assistants, but he remembered the rules, and he didn't want to be ordered to leave.

In the end, it didn't matter. It felt like a kick to the groin when Ingrid declared he needed to step out into the corridor. All the air in his lungs vanished and his heart seemed to drop to the floor.

"Wh-what?" he asked.

"Sir, _please_," Ingrid insisted. "You need to leave."

"But why?"

He looked at Anna, fear bubbling within him at the sight of her eyes fluttering and her breath quickening, slowing, quickening, slowing... she didn't even seem to notice he was there anymore. Her grip on his hand had loosened. All that appeared to exist for her in that moment was the _pain_ – horrible, excruciating pain that he could not ease nor take away no matter how much he wanted to.

"SIR!" Ingrid hollered. "This is urgent!"

It was the panic in Ingrid's voice that made him move, albeit reluctantly. Before stepping out of the room, however, he squeezed Anna's hand and leaned down toward her ear. He thought he heard Ingrid telling one of the assistants to escort him out, but he didn't care.

"They need me to leave for a while, okay?" he shakily whispered. "But I promise you, I'll be right back. I'll be just outside that door. I love you, Anna. Everything's going to be alright. _I love you_."

He kept telling her how much he loved her until he felt Bergitta's hand on his arm, tugging him toward the door.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, "but it's for the best. You'll understand later."

But Kristoff didn't want to understand later; he wanted to know now, _right now_, what was going on. What could be so bad that he needed to leave? In the few seconds it took Bergitta to guide him to the door, Kristoff attempted to process everything he heard Ingrid telling Marta.

_Breeches? Why are they talking about breeches? _he thought anxiously. _This isn't the time for that! Try to turn what? What does she mean the heart rate's dropping? Anna's or the baby's? And oh, my god, why is there so much blood? There shouldn't be that much blood, should there?_

Before Kristoff could hear any more, he'd been all but pushed by Bergitta into the corridor, and the door was shut in his panicked, tear-stained face; he hadn't even realized he'd begun crying. He dropped down on the floor directly across from Anna's room in a haze and stared at the door through blurry eyes, waiting for news.

_Anna..._ he thought, running his fingers through his hair and clawing at his scalp. _Anna... what's wrong? Please be okay. Please, _please_ be okay..._

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Sorry... :/

All of the references to Petra's birth are detailed in my other story, _In a Heartbeat. _Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter Three

_**Chapter Three**_

The time Kristoff spent alone in the corridor felt like an eternity. He lost count of how many times he paced the carpeted hall, how many times he simply leaned against the wall in shock, how many tears he shed. He'd even pressed his ear to the door every now and again in a desperate attempt to hear something, _anything_, but all he could hear was severely muffled conversation. He thought he heard a cry, but there was no way to know for sure, nor was there any way of knowing if it belonged to Anna or the baby if such a cry even existed.

He was sitting on the floor across from the room again when Gerda appeared in the corridor. Kristoff was so lost in his trance that he didn't even notice her approach.

"Sir?"

He turned toward the sound of her voice. Gerda appeared to be making her daily rounds, as her arms will filled with a stack of fresh, folded maroon linens, presumably for one of the guest bedchambers. At the sight of his ghostlike face and bloodshot eyes, the linens tumbled from Gerda's arms as she brought her hands up to cover her mouth.

"Sir... the Princess?" she gasped.

Kristoff shrugged.

"I don't know," he forced out.

Gerda drew a sharp intake of breath before sitting down beside him. She placed a tender, comforting hand on his arm.

"They made me leave," he continued in shaky breaths, looking down at his outstretched legs. "Ingrid... well, she said it was urgent and... I just don't know, but Gerda, something was _wrong_. No one's telling me anything. What if the baby is hurt? What if Anna-"

Kristoff choked up on the mention of his wife's name, and the tears pooled in his eyes once more. He couldn't stand not knowing if she was okay. How could Ingrid and her assistants be so cruel? Couldn't they understand that the uncertainty was _destroying_ him?

Gerda tenderly took his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"How long has it been since you were asked to leave?"

"I don't know," he confessed. "An hour? Maybe less than that. I wasn't counting."

"But it has been a while?" When he nodded, she continued. "Sir, I'm sure if circumstances were... _tragic_... you would have been informed by now."

"Maybe. I... I don't know. I just want to know _something._"

"Were you told anything before leaving?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I just overheard a few things. Something about the heart rate and breeches. _Breeches_. Can you believe that?" Kristoff scoffed.

He still couldn't believe the audacity of them; who, in their right mind, would discuss clothing at such a crucial time? And they were midwives, no less, caring for _his_ Anna! How _dare_ they?

"Sir... are you sure they didn't say _breech_?"

"Breeches, breech, what difference does it make?" Kristoff scowled.

"Sir," Gerda began, "a breech is a birthing position." When Kristoff raised an eyebrow, she explained what it meant. He felt his heart sink lower and lower with each detail.

"Will... will Anna be okay?" he whispered.

"I'm not an expert, but many women have survived it. It's painful, _very_ painful, but liveable."

"And the baby?"

"Newborns have survived it, too," Gerda soothed. "It's a gruelling experience, however, for both mother and child. If the princess did indeed have a breech birth, she would need a longer recovery time. Perhaps that's what's causing the delay."

"Okay," Kristoff breathed with a nod. "Okay." He knew it wasn't a guarantee, but at least he had something, even if it was only a mere possibility.

"Sir, perhaps a walk would do you some good?" Gerda suggested. "If you've been out here for a while, stepping away to clear your head may-"

"No," Kristoff promptly interrupted. "No. I'm not leaving until I hear some news. What if Ingrid or one of the others comes out when I'm gone?"

"I'll stay right here until you return. It appears I have some laundry to refold, anyway," she added, tilting her head toward the heap of linens. He felt her hand on his arm again. "Sir, even if it's only for five minutes, it'll help calm you. Go get some water or even a bite to eat. You'll go mad if you stay here."

Kristoff glanced at the door, then down the corridor. He was awfully parched, no doubt a result of the tears and panic-induced sweat. A glass of water sounded good.

"Just a few minutes," he conceded. "And you'll stay right here until I return?"

"I promise," the older woman assured. "I'm not going anywhere. You forget that I love the Princess like a daughter, and you like a son."

"Thank you," he said. It was sincere, though he came out hasty and aloof; he just hoped Gerda understood.

Kristoff nearly sprinted to the kitchens to fetch some water. He gulped down an entire goblet before pouring himself another to take with him as he roamed the palace corridors for a few minutes. He didn't go anywhere in particular, walking by the Hall of Portraits three separate times by pure coincidence as he mindlessly took small, halfhearted sips. The goblet was nearly empty when he suddenly felt a pair of small arms wrap around his legs, almost causing him to stumble and fall flat on his face.

"Papa!" came Petra's jubilant voice, laced with giggles. "I was looking for you and mama. You weren't in your room! Where's mama? Let's go get breakfast! C'mon!"

Kristoff looked down at his daughter, guilt tearing through him upon realizing he'd completely forgotten about her in all of the evening's chaos. Petra gazed up at him happily with the brown eyes he knew to be his own. He'd been told time and time again by Anna their daughter looked just like him, and though he couldn't help but agree, all he saw when he looked down at that round, cheerful face was his wife. The spunk, the laughter, the carefree demeanor... that was all Anna, and enthralling as it was on every other day, it broke his heart that time.

"Good morning, sweetheart," he whispered through a forced smile. Petra wasn't fooled.

"Why are your eyes red, Papa?" she asked, smile curving downward. "Are you sad?"

He softly brushed his large hand over her head, smoothing over her wavy, honey blonde locks. How could he explain the turmoil of the past few hours to such a small, blissfully ignorant girl?

"I'm not sad, sweetheart," he said, kneeling down so his eyes were at her level. "I'm just a little scared, that's all. You know how you cry sometimes when you get scared?"

"But why are you scared?"

"Do you remember your mama and I telling you just the other day that the new baby will be here in a few weeks?" When Petra nodded, he continued. "Well, it turns out we were wrong. It's a little earlier than we thought, but your mama's having the baby now."

"Mama's having the baby?" Petra exclaimed, jumping up and down. "Can I see it? When can I see it?"

"I'm not sure." It was the truth. "But you'll be the first to know once I find out, okay?"

"Okay! But why are you scared, Papa?" she repeated.

Kristoff sighed. He couldn't tell the bright-eyed, giddy four-year-old before him what was really going on; she likely wouldn't understand, and on the off chance that she did, it would terrify her and break her heart. He decided to go with a partial lie.

"I'm scared because it's a new baby," he explained as smoothly as he could. "I was nervous when you were born, too."

"Really?"

"Really."

"But why?"

Kristoff smiled. "Because it's new, sweetheart. We all get a little scared when big changes happen."

"It's okay! Don't worry," she chimed confidently. "You're good at being a papa."

He felt s tiny bit of pressure building behind his eyes, but for the first time since bringing Anna to the room, it was the good kind. Kristoff pulled his little girl in for a hug and held her tiny body tightly against his.

"Thank you, Petra."

"Will you come have breakfast with me now, Papa?"

"Actually," he murmured, pulling back so he could look at her face, "I'm going to go check on your mama, alright? But, I know where Gerda is. I can send her down to have breakfast with you today. But," he continued with a small smile, "I promise I come have breakfast with you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay! Bye, papa! I love you!"

"I love you, too, Petra," he reciprocated, but she was already running in the opposite direction. He envied his daughter's youthful innocence and ability to be placidly unaware.

Kristoff plodded back to the second floor corridor, leaving his finished goblet on a random end table he happened to pass by; he couldn't be bothered with returning it to the kitchen. Gerda, as promised, was still seated right across from Anna's chamber. She appeared to have not moved at all, leading Kristoff to assume this meant no one had emerged from the room with news; he couldn't decide whether to be relieved he hadn't missed anything or aggravated that there was still no word on Anna or the child.

His uncertainty immediately evolved into both eagerness and fear when, as he approached Gerda to thank her, the chamber door opened and an exhausted Ingrid emerged from it. Kristoff stopped dead in his tracks, attempting to read her seemingly indifferent face.

"I... I'll give you two some privacy," Gerda stammered, gathering her laundry in haste, some of which remained unfolded and messy.

"Sir," Ingrid said, "is there a place we can go to talk?"

"How's Anna?" he asked.

"If we could please just-"

"_How's Anna_?" he persisted.

"Sir-"

"Ingrid, _please_!"

"The Princess is not well."

It was as if Kristoff's body went numb as his entire being succumbed to the reality of Ingrid's words. Not well. _Not well. _Anna was _not_ okay. The statement rang in his ears like a wretched scream, and all he could feel was his heart buffeting hard against his ribs.

"She's... not well?"

"Please, Sir," Ingrid insisted, "if we could just sit somewhere and talk... there are some things I need to share with you."

"Okay," he relented in a whisper. "Okay. Here... this one..."

Kristoff gestured to the second door down on the left, a room which he knew was nothing more than a lounge. Ingrid closed the door behind her and sat in one of the armchairs. He sat heavily across from her, placing his hands on his knees and willing himself not to cry.

_She's not dead_, he quietly stressed to himself. _She's not well. Not well isn't dead. She could still be alright... she could still be alright..._

The tears came anyway.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> This is kind of a bridge chapter, but it was necessary for the pacing of the story; I had to cut it here in order to keep some balance among chapters. Sorry! It will get more... well, intense, shall we say, in later chapters. That's a promise

I hope you stick around! Thanks for reading! :)


	4. Chapter Four

_**Chapter Four**_

The lounge would have been as silent as a morgue if not for Kristoff's labored breath, his fruitless attempt to hold back sobs that were threatening to break free. His eyes stung with the effort and his vision was blurry, though he couldn't decipher if that was a result of the tears themselves or the fact that his head was spinning in vicious circles. All he could hear was the violent echo of blood pumping in his ears. Ingrid's words looped through his mind on endless repeat.

_The Princess is not well. The Princess is not well. The Princess is not well..._

_ What does that even MEAN?_ he thought.

"I apologize for forcing you to leave," Ingrid began. "As I'm sure you know, complications arose."

"Breech," he mumbled through quivering breaths.

"You heard that, then."

Kristoff nodded. "Gerda explained it to me."

"So I'm sure you know now that the Princess was in quite a bit of distress. I asked you to leave because I had to turn the baby."

"_Turn_ the baby?" Kristoff queried. "But how...?"

"It's a complex procedure, one I'm afraid to say caused much agony for the Princess, but it did make the delivery itself much easier for both herself and the child."

Kristoff swallowed hard at the thought of Anna being in turmoil without him there to at least _try_ to comfort her. He knew Ingrid was merely doing her job and that she was experienced in her line of work, so he was not about to question her decision to make him leave the room. However, he wished that just once, she could have made an exception so Anna didn't have to be alone.

_She already made an exception for you,_ he reminded himself. _You were lucky to be in there for as long as you were. Be grateful for that._

"Then what's wrong? I mean, if she was able to deliver the child, everything should be fine."

"It's a bit more intrinsic than that." Ingrid fidgeted with her hands in her lap as she seemingly collected her words. "The Princess's womb was ruptured. She... she lost a lot of blood."

"What do you mean, _ruptured_?"

"I imagine the breech contributed to it, and even though it was safer to have the child turned, there was still risk involved," Ingrid explained as calmly as possible. "The danger is that an open wound can cause infection, and I fear that's what happened to the Princess. She's been plagued with the childbed fever. She... she has not woken since the birth."

"Fever? She can overcome that, though, can't she? I mean, she's been fever-ridden before."

"She can, yes," she answered, though tone was uncertain and wavering.

"Ingrid?"

The woman sighed. "You know, Sir, that I've been a midwife for many years. Only twice before has a mother in my care caught the childbed fever."

Kristoff watched as Ingrid's petrified eyes darted around before settling their gaze back to her lap. She inhaled a deep breath.

"And they were okay, right?" he asked with caution after a moment. "Ingrid, both of them _did_ overcome it, didn't they?"

Ingrid nodded and quietly answered, "One of them did, yes."

"And... and the other?"

Kristoff stomach churned with unrivaled fear as Ingrid solemnly shook her head. His head was spinning and he felt as if he might vomit. Anna was sick with something that had _killed_ people before. She could be taken from him at any moment. He hadn't felt so scared since the day he'd bolted back to Arendelle with the hope of unfreezing her heart and saving her life, but even still, this was a million times worse. This time, there was nothing he could do.

"I... I just don't understand," Kristoff choked out, a fresh sting in his eyes. "Anna's healthy. Everything was fine with Petra. How... _how...?_"

"I wish I knew," Ingrid murmured. "As you said, the Princess suffered no ailments during her first childbearing, and she was right on time. My only wonder is if-"

Ingrid stopped mid-sentence. Her gaze settled between her feet as she seemingly became quite interested in the lounge's patterned carpet. Kristoff glared at her with as much patience as his current state of mind would allow, waiting for her to continue.

"You know, don't you?" Kristoff asked. "You know what's wrong."

"I... I only have a theory. Just a theory."

"Well, what is it?" Kristoff wasn't sure why he wanted to know so badly; he was fully aware knowing what may have caused Anna's troubles wasn't likely going to do all that much to assist her recovery. Ingrid took a deep breath.

"Sir, may I ask you something? A _personal_ something," she added. When Kristoff nodded, she continued. "It seems curious to me that a young, healthy woman like the Princess would have such a lengthy period between children."

"We thought that, too," Kristoff agreed wistfully.

"I suppose that answers my question."

"Which is?"

"With such a gap between children, I'd wondered if... well, it was not for lack of attempt, correct?"

"No," Kristoff answered promptly; he couldn't even fathom being embarrassed at such a painstaking time.

"And the same for Petra as well?" Ingrid continued. "I only ask because her arrival, if memory serves, was just over two years after you wed the Princess."

"Ingrid," Kristoff said, "lack of intimacy has never been an issue."

"Forgive me for intruding in such private matters," Ingrid apologized. "I needed to know if that was a factor."

"So what do you think is wrong?"

"Again, it's merely a theory, but I'm wondering if, perhaps, what happened to the Princess harmed her internally."

"What are you talking about?"

"Before the Great Thaw, when she was..."

"Frozen," Kristoff finished for her.

Kristoff had never even considered the notion that her body being temporarily frozen solid would have had any lasting implications on her health, but now that idea was in his head, it did make sense. Anna got sick a lot; it was never anything serious, but she did seem to feel under the weather more often than most. She always wanted to take frequent breaks whenever they were out for a long walk or even a short climb in the hills for a picnic. She got winded very easily whenever she was running around and playing with Petra.

Ingrid nodded. "Sir, I'm not a doctor, and I'm most certainly not an expert in the effects of magic, but I have to wonder if the freezing somehow weakened her body, making it more difficult for her to conceive and carry. Though your daughter arrived with no complications, it took an unusually long time for the Princess to become pregnant with her. As for what went wrong the second time-"

"Third," Kristoff muttered in a barely audible whisper.

"Pardon me, Sir?"

"This one's her third. We think, anyway."

"Sir?"

"It was about two years ago," Kristoff recalled, mind clouding with melancholy at the memory. "Anna was feeling differently. She was tired all the time, and she missed a course, then a second. We figured there was a baby. Then one night, she woke up suddenly with pains. There... there was blood in our bed."

"Sir," Ingrid whimpered, "I am _so_ sorry. I... I had no idea."

"When we learned she was with child again," Kristoff carried on heavily, "we didn't tell anyone right away. We waited until she began to show. Thought it would be safer that way, you know? Once we were sure, Anna called it our little miracle."

Kristoff allowed a smile as he remembered how ecstatic Anna had been for the last few months. She couldn't wait to be a mother again, especially since Petra was getting too big to hold. Then he thought of her laying in bed a few rooms down, weak and ill, and the very real possibility that their new baby would grow up not knowing her.

_Some miracle_, he thought.

"If the Princess did indeed miscarry a child after Petra's birth, it furthers my suspicion that her womb was weakened. Carrying and delivering one child may have damaged it further."

"What difference does it make?" Kristoff scoffed. "Talking about this isn't going make her any better."

"True, it will not," Ingrid conceded, "but if the Princess recovers-"

"_When_ she recovers," Kristoff corrected. He wasn't giving up hope. Not yet.

"When she recovers... Sir... I don't think it's likely she'll be able to have more children."

That did him in. Ingrid's words pierced Kristoff's heart like a knife, and he couldn't hold back the tears anymore. He buried his face in his hands not because he wanted more children – though he certainly wouldn't have objected to more – but because of how Anna would take such news. She would be devastated. Ever since they married, Anna had told him she wanted a big family, and though she never told him her reasoning, he had an inkling as to why: she never wanted any of their children to grow up lonely the way she had. He imagined her waking from her fever, holding their new baby, and crying because she knew it'd be her last. The thought shattered his heart into a thousand shards.

"So what now?" Kristoff stammered, finally raising his head. "What do we do?"

"We wait," Ingrid replied calmly. "I have given her some medicine, but the rest is in God's hands."

"She's going to make it," Kristoff told her, though he was really trying to convince himself. "I know Anna. She'll fight this."

"I do hope so. The child... well, he should know his mother, and-"

She was swiftly interrupted by Kristoff, who stared her with wide, moist eyes.

"_He?_" Kristoff whispered in disbelief.

Ingrid let out a small gasp upon realizing the information she'd just revealed, then nodded and smiled.

"Congratulations, Sir," she said. "A son."

"And... and he's...?"

"He's perfectly healthy. Bergitta is going to find a nurse for him for the time being."

"No. Anna wouldn't want that."

"Sir, the child needs to eat."

"_No_," Kristoff repeated sternly. When Petra was born, Anna had been adamant about not having a wet nurse because she wanted to feed their child herself. He knew the same was true this time. "Anna will want to nurse him."

"I understand that, but Sir, the Princess is in no state to do so at the moment, and we can't let the boy starve."

It felt wrong, almost as if they were betraying Anna, but Ingrid was right. Kristoff hung his head. He'd never felt so helpless in his entire life. Everything was relying on fate, and he could quite literally feel the control he had in his life slipping away. He could end up a widower and his family could wind up broken, and he had no say in the matter. If he lost Anna, he lost _everything_.

"I need to go check in on the Princess," Ingrid said after a while. "Is there anything you'd like to ask or discuss before I depart?" When Kristoff shook his head, she leaned forward and placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Sir... I cannot express how sorry I am that this is happened. Please know that I'm going to do everything I can for Princess Anna. I will not leave this palace until she's better, and every prayer I make will be for her."

After Ingrid left, Kristoff was not left alone for long, though he was too lost in his grief to notice the door reopening several minutes later.

"Sir?" Kristoff turned his head toward the sound of the softspoken voice. Marta was standing in the doorway with a bundle in her arms. "Would you like to meet your son?"

On pure instinct, Kristoff almost said no; it felt wrong to see the baby before Anna had a chance. Not to mention, it was Anna who'd introduced him to Petra four years ago, and he'd been looking forward to sharing such a tender moment with her once more. Nonetheless, Kristoff felt himself absentmindedly nod and rise from his chair, meeting Marta halfway.

"He's a bit small, being born so early," Marta informed him, "but he's strong. A fighter."

_Just like his mother, _Kristoff immediately thought.

Marta placed the tiny infant into Kristoff outstretched arms. Right away, he felt the difference; the baby was quite lighter than Petra had been. He gazed down at the face of his and Anna's son, surprised to see that he was awake; when he held his daughter for the first time, she'd been sound asleep and didn't even budge. By contrast, his son was wiggling around while gazing up at him with soft, cobalt eyes. _Anna's_ eyes.

His head was topped with little tufts of ginger hair. _Anna's_ hair.

As he suckled on his tiny fist, his cheeks puffed up and were tinted pink. They were _Anna's_ cheeks.

The button nose, the rounded chin, the small dimples near the corners of his mouth... _everything_ about him was Anna.

Kristoff wanted to cry.

"He's great," he managed to choke out without breaking down. He handed the baby back to Marta. "Really. He's fantastic."

"Sir-"

"I need to see Anna."

He didn't give Marta a chance to say anything else before hastily exiting the lounge. He headed straight for Anna's chamber and didn't even bother to knock before walking right in. Anna was concealed from view, as Ingrid was checking on heaven-knows-what, but the midwife turned at the sound of the door.

"She... she isn't awake yet, Sir," Ingrid said, a sympathetic gleam in her eyes.

"I know," Kristoff murmured with a nod. "But can I be with her for a while?"

"Sir, I-"

"Please, Ingrid," he pleaded. "I... I just need a few minutes with her."

"Very well. Take all the time you need." Ingrid respectfully bowed her head before slipping out of the room and closing the door behind her.

Kristoff held his breath as he inched toward Anna's bedside, not daring to breathe. He only let air out of his lungs once he was hovering right above her. What he saw shocked him to the core so powerfully that he couldn't even bring himself to cry.

Face drained of all color, Anna looked like a ghost. Her hair was tousled and matted from the inevitable sweat that came with a fever. Though her chest rose and fell, he couldn't hear her breathing. Her mouth hung open slightly and her eyes remained closed. If he didn't know better, he would have assumed Anna was lost in a peaceful slumber.

He sat down in the chair he'd been forced to abandon earlier. His chest tightened as he reached for her hand; even before he touched it, he could feel the heat radiating off her. Anna had been sick several times since they married, but she'd never been so frighteningly warm.

"Anna?" he whispered as he grasped her hand. "Anna, it's me. It's Kristoff."

Kristoff didn't say anything for a moment, though he wasn't sure why; he very well knew she wouldn't answer. Nonetheless, the wistful hope for a response burned within him.

"I know you don't feel well, love. I know you're tired. Just please, let me know if you can hear me?" Anna didn't reply. "It's alright if it's too hard to talk. Just show me, okay? Grip my hand a little, or squeeze your eyes a bit tighter. Please? Please, Anna. Let me know you can hear me."

His wife remained still and seemingly lifeless. A lump formed in his throat, as did new tears in his eyes.

"Th-that's okay, love. It's okay. I know you need to rest. You need to get better so you can meet our son. _Our son_. It's a boy, Anna."

A tiny bead of salty sadness escaped his eye and began its journey down his cheek as he thought of what their conversation would be like if Anna was awake and well. He'd be teasing her about being right about the gender, and she'd be saying it didn't matter. Then, he'd playfully point out how she would consider it the most important thing in the world if she'd been the correct one, and she wouldn't have a good retort, so she'd kiss him and snuggle the baby closer to her. And they'd laugh together, _smile_ together, because their family was complete.

"You have to meet our little boy," he tearfully carried on. "You're going to love him so much. He's healthy and strong. And guess what? You were right. He doesn't look anything like me. He has your hair, your eyes, your nose... Anna, he looks_ just like you_."

It was as if those last words destroyed a dam within Kristoff; out of nowhere, a heavy sob rocked his entire being as he finally broke down. He leaned forward toward Anna, covering her torso with his own and burying his face against her to cry. Tears cascaded from his eyes and pooled in the crook of her neck before slipping back toward the pillow she rested upon.

"Anna... I can't even_ look_ at him, not when you're up here like this," he cried. "You've got to pull through, okay? You need to fight this. You _have_ to. If we lose you... our family's broken without you, Anna. Our boy deserves to know you. He... he can't grow up knowing only stories and portraits. And Petra... Petra loves you _so much_. She needs you."

Kristoff lifted his head to look at her motionless face, gently brushing a hand against her pale cheek.

"And _I_ need you, Anna," he choked out in a whisper. "I'm nothing without you. You're _everything_ to me. I love you more than you'll ever know. You can't go yet... you can't... you can't..."

He leaned his head against her again and continued to weep. The most awful of scenarios flashed through his mind: one of his son never knowing Anna, of Petra mourning the loss of her mother, and of himself spending the rest of his life heartbroken and lonely.

"Please don't go," he continued to whisper. "Please, Anna, don't go... I love you... please, _please_ don't go..."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> This one was pretty dialogue-heavy; sorry! 'Twas necessary. Also, please forgive any potential inaccuracies with medical stuff. I don't have a whole lot of background knowledge in this department, and I did the best I could with research.

See you soon for Chapter Five! Thanks for reading! :)


	5. Chapter Five

_**Chapter Five**_

Within the three days after the birth of his son, Kristoff seemed to age fifteen years. His brown eyes, droopy from lack of adequate sleep, had evolved into bloodshot pools surrounded by dark maroon. His gaunt face was topped with head of shaggy hair he hadn't bothered to run his fingers through, let alone a comb. As he sat at Anna's side, his shoulders were slumped over and his head hung low, weighted down by exhaustion, stress, and worry.

Kristoff spent most of the first day whispering to Anna, urging her to keep fighting and reminding her how much he loved her. Sometimes he told her stories in the hope that, if she could hear him, she would be entertained, because he knew from experience how fast Anna got bored. He refused to leave her side even when Ingrid, Bergitta, or Marta came in to check on her, and only left for the brief periods when nature called. On the seldom instances he slept, it was done so lightly as snuggled up to Anna's heated body; the smallest flinch or sound roused him in the desperate hope that Anna was waking up, too.

On the second day, he was in a trance, mindlessly rubbing his thumb against Anna's hand as he stared at the wall, at the ceiling, at _her_. He didn't really cry much, as he'd shed enough tears to last a lifetime over the course of the previous day, though his eyes did water up on occasion and there were lingering streaks remaining on his face. He mumbled a thank you to Gerda whenever she brought up food for him, but it was always left forgotten on the table she placed it on. Whenever one of the ladies offered to sit by Anna and watch her for a while so he could get some sleep or take a walk, he wordlessly shook his head and stayed put.

When the third day arrived, Kristoff's exhaustion and stress manifested into a helpless anger accompanied by a short temper. The uncertainty and waiting was driving him mad with agitation; the game that time was forcing him to play was grating on his patience and sanity. He wasn't even sad anymore, just frustrated, which made him feel more guilty leading to more anger and...

"Sir?"

Kristoff shifted his narrowed, scarlet-laced eyes to the doorway; he hadn't even realized Gerda had stepped in. It was peculiar that she was in the room again, having been by a mere hour before to deliver him a hearty bowl of soup, which was now chilled and murky in its untouched state.

"I'm not hungry," he muttered, turning his gaze back to Anna.

"I know, Sir. I know. I just wondered if... if you might want a break? I'd be happy to look out for the Princess for you so you can-"

"No." His irritated response came out through gritted teeth as a groan.

"Are you-"

"No!" he snapped, turning toward her once more. "I've told Ingrid. I've told Marta and Bergitta. I've told _everyone_. I am _not _leaving this room until Anna wakes up. You're not going to change my mind."

He raised his eyebrows when Gerda remained standing in the doorway, gloved hands fidgeting at her sides. There was a small part of Kristoff that felt bad for giving Gerda a hard time, for she'd been nothing but kind and accepting of him since he first stepped foot in the castle, but he couldn't fathom caring about anyone's feelings at such a time. He didn't have the energy to give a damn.

"Is there anything else?" he asked.

Gerda nodded. "Sir, it's just... well, I'm here on behalf of Petra."

Kristoff felt the remorse slowly creep up within him, though as he'd done for the past few days, he pushed it aside. He hadn't seen his daughter since the morning of the birth and felt terrible for not caring much.

"What about her?"

"She... she's scared, Sir," Gerda quivered. "She's asking about her mother, and you. I'm wondering what I should tell her."

"Tell her Anna's sick," Kristoff said with a shrug. "No point in lying to her."

"Sir, she knows the Princess isn't well, but..."

"What?" Kristoff scowled.

Gerda sighed. "Sir... she needs you."

"For what?"

"Forgive me if I'm speaking out of term, Sir," Ingrid began slowly, "but your daughter is terrified. She hasn't seen you or her mother in three days. She doesn't know if either of you are alright, and she knows nothing about her new sibling. I think it would mean a lot to Petra if you allowed me to look after the Princess so you could spend some time with her."

"No."

"I beg your pardon?"

"No," Kristoff repeated. "Like I've said more times than I can count, I'm staying with Anna. She needs me."

"With all due respect, Sir, Petra needs you, too."

"She just needs someone," he argued. "She adores you. You can look after her while I'm up here. You tell her what's going on. You be her shoulder to cry on. I can't right now, alright?"

"I know that it isn't my place to say, Sir, but I'm only speaking out of concern for the girl, and I hardly think I measure up to you in her eyes."

"Gerda," he declared firmly, "you can watch after Petra for now."

"Sir, I beg you-"

"That's an order!"

Kristoff even surprised himself as the words left his mouth. Never once had he dreamed of using his title as Prince Consort to pull rank, much less actually done so, and especially not to hurl commands at the sweetest, most helpful woman in the palace. He instinctively wanted to apologize and take it all back, but doing so would mean admitting he had to leave Anna's side, and he couldn't do that. Why couldn't anyone seem to understand that Anna was priority above all else? Was it really that difficult of a concept for everyone to grasp?

He felt a small twinge of regret as he watched Gerda's stunned face fall and her eyes fill with tears, though the latter could have been a trick of the light. In that moment, he really didn't care either way.

"Very well, Sir," Gerda whimpered, respectfully bowing her head. "I apologize for the intrusion."

Once Gerda departed the room, Kristoff looked back at Anna with a frown and stared at her for quite a while. He wasn't sure why, but although he was still concerned for her health, he was suddenly angry with her.

"You're being so selfish, Anna," he muttered. "You have two children who need you, and what are you doing? Laying here like an invalid."

For the first time in ages, he let go of her hand. He watched it fall limply beside her on the quilt. Kristoff reached for it again, only to drop it once more and instead stand up so he could grab her shoulders. He almost shook her. Almost.

"Wake up!" he sneered. "God damn it, Anna, wake up! This is ridiculous! Three days! Three _fucking_ days! I've had enough! Do you have any idea what you're doing to me? Do you have any idea what you're doing to our _family_? Don't you care about us? You're scaring Petra to death! Our son doesn't even know who you are! He probably thinks his damn nurse is his mother! Is that what you want, Anna? Do you want that beautiful little boy thinking he belongs to someone else? That's what's going to happen if you just stay up here, sleeping your life away! Wake up! Wake up _now_!"

"_KRISTOFF!_"

Kristoff's head snapped in fury to look at the door, half expecting Gerda to have returned. Instead, his wild red eyes were met with the cold blue ones of Queen Elsa, back from her voyage to a neighboring kingdom.

"Kristoff, what are you doing?" Elsa screeched, rushing toward him and Anna. "What is-"

"Get out," he hissed.

"Excuse me?"

"Get out!"

Before Elsa had a chance to retort, Kristoff had let go of Anna and was charging toward her in large, hasty steps, pointing back toward his wife as he did so.

"This is _your_ fault, Elsa!" he hollered. "All of this is your damn fault! _GET OUT_!"

"What are you talking about?" Elsa cried.

"_YOU FROZE HER!_"

Elsa stood before him, eyes wide with a mix of shock and anger.

"Kristoff," she began as steadily as possible, "perhaps we should discuss this elsewhere. It doesn't feel appropriate here."

"_Appropriate_? Who gives a damn about what's appropriate?" Kristoff manically laughed in disbelief. "Anna is dying, and you're worried about etiquette? Are you kidding me?!"

"Kristoff," Elsa warned, holding up a hand which glowed indigo, "please... don't make me force you."

"Funny, seeing as that fucking hand of yours is what caused this whole mess!"

The indigo of her skin turned the darkest shade of royal blue, as did her narrowed eyes.

"Kristoff," she said as calmly as she could muster, "do not take that tone with me. Now, I implore you to step into the corridor. _Now_."

"Gladly, _Your Majesty_!" he sneered, sarcasm dripping from his lips. He glared at her as he passed, the invisible, chilly cloud he had to walk through surprisingly soothing to his heated, enraged body.

His breaths were long and deep once Elsa joined him in the corridor as his heart furiously thundered against his ribs. He could practically hear it drumming to the now familiar tune of rage and panic.

"Now," Elsa began once she closed the door to Anna's chamber behind her, "I understand you're upset."

"Upset? I'm _beyond_ upset! I-"

"Kristoff, please!" Elsa urged. "I'm scared, too, alright? How do you think I felt arriving home to the news that my sister is ill?"

"Probably a hell of a lot better than I have for the past three days actually dealing with it!" Kristoff shot back. "Do you have any idea what she's been putting me through? Or should I say, what _you've_ been putting me through?"

"How is any of this my fault, Kristoff?"

"You froze her! I told you that already!"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Her body was weakened because of it!" Kristoff shouted. "That's why the baby came early! That's why she's so sick! That's why she miscarried two years ago!"

"Kristoff, there's no way to know for certain that-"

"Oh, don't even start that with me, Elsa!"

"Yelling at me isn't going to help Anna!" Elsa reasoned. "Please, Kristoff, I know you're hurting right now. I am, too, and I want to be here for Anna just as much as you do!"

"Oh, is that right?" Kristoff bellowed. "Then where were you, Elsa? Where have you been these past few days when you knew Anna was expecting a baby? Where were you when she was running around the fjord freezing to death, or risking her life going up the mountain to bring you home? Where were you, Elsa, for the thirteen years the sister you supposedly love spent alone, crying because she thought you hated her?"

"Kristoff, that's enough!"

"Anna is dying, Elsa, and there's nothing I can do! There's nothing _any_ of us can do but wait! So please, _Your Majesty_, forgive me if I-"

Kristoff stopped when he heard the faintest gasp from a little further down the corridor. As he turned to the sound, he felt everything – the pain, the rage, the need to blame – wash away in an instant, only to be replaced with guilt and shame, because there stood Petra, frightened and crying.

"P-Papa?" she whimpered.

"Oh, Petra," he breathed. "Sweetheart, I-"

But it was too late; Petra was already running away as fast as her little legs could carry her, sobs echoing in the vast corridor. Kristoff was heartbroken and embarrassed. He was her father. She was supposed to be able to look up to him, _trust_ him, and there he was, violently screaming at the aunt she loved so much.

"Oh, no..."

"Kristoff," Elsa said, bringing a hand to his upper arm. "Come on. We can't do this his."

He didn't argue. Kristoff absentmindedly allowed Elsa to lead him into a room while he felt his head turn dizzy. His mind was swirling in a grim, vicious haze. Not only was he coping with the severity of his wife's condition, but he was now burdened with realization that his daughter was afraid of him and that he'd just spent the last several minutes chastising the Queen of Arendelle. He was going to be banished from the kingdom. He'd have to leave everything behind. It was bad enough his children might end up motherless, but if they ended up fatherless, too...

"Kristoff, look at me."

Kristoff lifted his head from his hands, surprised to find that his palms were wet; when had he started crying? And how had he ended up sitting on a couch with Elsa beside him? He looked around for a moment, swallowing hard upon realizing he was in the exact same lounge in which he'd endured the most gruelling conversation with Ingrid three days before. He reminded himself that it must have been a pure coincidence.

He turned to face Elsa with the expectation of a swift lecture. Instead, he was met with sympathetic eyes and a tender touch on his hand.

"Kristoff, I spoke with Gerda."

"What?" he sniffled.

"I've been home for a little while. She told me everything about Anna, and... Kristoff, I'm so sorry this is happening. I don't know what to say."

"There's nothing to say."

"She also told me about you. She told me what you said to her."

"I didn't mean it," Kristoff argued. "I didn't want to be rude, but... no one will listen to me, Elsa! I have to stay with Anna. I have to. If she wakes up and I'm not there-"

"Someone will fetch you immediately," Elsa finished for him. "Kristoff, you can't stay in that room all hours of the day. You need to get out of there."

"No."

"Kristoff, Gerda told me you haven't eaten and you've barely slept."

"I'm fine, Elsa."

"No, you aren't!" Elsa countered. "Look at yourself! You're a mess!"

"Well, I'm sorry I can't bring myself to be charming at a time like this."

"That's not what I mean, and you know it. You need to take care of yourself, Kristoff. You're not doing Anna any favors by starving yourself and not sleeping. And what's this I hear about you refusing to see Petra?"

"I told you, Elsa, I need to be with Anna right now."

"No, you don't. Not all the time, anyway. You need to be with your daughter."

"Anna needs me."

"Other people can take turns looking after Anna, but Petra needs you. Kristoff, she needs you now more than ever."

"Why?" Kristoff cried. "So I can play games and braid her hair and pretend everything is perfect?"

"No! So your little girl doesn't feel abandoned! Doesn't she matter to you?"

"Of course she matters to me! Don't you _dare _underestimate how much I love my daughter!"

"Consider it retribution for your insinuation that I don't love my sister," Elsa replied coolly.

Kristoff could only glare at her, unable to muster a good retort.

"Listen, Kristoff," she continued gently. "I know you told Gerda that anyone would do when it comes to consoling Petra, but that's not true. She needs her father. I know it'll be hard, but you need to talk to her."

"But she won't want to talk to me," Kristoff whispered, guilt rising within him as he recalled what happened in the corridor. "Not after what she saw. She probably hates me."

Elsa shook her head. "She may be a little scared, but Petra loves you. She thinks the world of you, and you're what she needs right now."

"Elsa-"

"Life doesn't stop when someone is sick, Kristoff!" Elsa scolded. "I know you're worried about Anna, okay? We all are. But that doesn't excuse you from reality! You need to take care of yourself and your family! You're a father, Kristoff, and you have two children who need you in their lives. Yes, _children_. Have you even _seen_ your son since he was born?"

"He doesn't need me!"

"Of course he needs you! Kristoff, all he knows right now are his nurse and a couple of servants. He needs to know you. You need to go hold him, talk to him, rock him to sleep. Just because you can't feed him does not mean you're worthless to him!"

Kristoff withheld the painful tears threatening to burst. How could he explain to Elsa, to anyone, that he couldn't bear to hold his baby? What kind of person was he? He suddenly felt Elsa's naturally cool touch on his hand, the temperature starkly contrasting the sentiment.

"He's beautiful, Kristoff."

"Of course he's beautiful. He's perfect. He's... he's _her._"

"I can only assume how hard it must be."

"It's impossible," he wept. "Elsa... I can't look at him without wanting to cry."

"But like I said before, Kristoff," Elsa reasoned, "you're a father. You have to put his and Petra's needs before your own. I know you're hurting and I'm not saying it's going to be easy, but you have to be strong for both of them."

Kristoff said nothing, gazing at the floor between his feet. Elsa broke the silence a minute later.

"So, here's what you're going to do," she said. "Once you leave this room, you're going to go see Petra." When Kristoff opened his mouth to protest, Elsa held up her hand. "You're going to talk to her, hold her, and help her understand what's going on. Then you're going to get a night's rest."

"But Anna-"

"No. You need to stay out of that room for a while. I'll stay with Anna, I promise."

"Elsa-"

"Kristoff, you're not the only person in this palace who loves and cares about Anna. I know you don't want to hear this, but I need time with her, too. If you won't stay out of the room for yourself, then please do it so I can have some time with my sister." When he didn't respond, she continued. "Kristoff, I'm asking you this as your sister-in-law and friend. Please do not force me to command you as your Queen."

"Alright," he reluctantly whispered. "I'll go see Petra. But Elsa-"

"I promise, Kristoff, if she wakes, you'll be the first to know."

"Thank you."

"I'm going to go sit with Anna now," Elsa informed him. "Please, Kristoff, get some sleep tonight. Get something to eat. Take a _break_. You need it."

After Elsa departed, he trudged his way in the direction of Petra's chamber, heart sinking lower the further he got away from Anna. He felt like he was betraying her by leaving, but Elsa was right: he wasn't helping her by staying. Once he arrived at Petra's door, his hand stopped midair as he was about to knock; even through the wood, he could hear her softly crying.

Kristoff briskly walked up to the bedchamber he shared with Anna, stomach churning at the memory of the last time he was in the room, panicking about the premature arrival of his wife's pains. Ignoring it all to the best of his ability, he grabbed a pillow and blanket, then returned to Petra's room. He knocked before slowly opening the door and stepping in.

Petra didn't even notice him walk into the room. She was kneeling beside her bed with her eyes closed, murmuring what was no doubt a prayer to the heavens above. For the billionth time in his daughter's short life, she reminded Kristoff of Anna: caring, selfless, and full of hope. He felt like he was intruding on a private moment, so he waited patiently by the door until she was finished, not daring to interrupt her moment with God. When Petra opened her eyes, she spotted him right away.

"Papa," she gasped. He cringed with remorse as she cowered slightly.

"Petra," he said, beginning to take cautious steps toward her, "I know it's your bedtime, but do you mind if I talk to you for a while?"

"Are... are you going to yell at me?"

"Why would I yell at you?"

"Because you were yelling at Aunt Elsa."

"Sweetheart... I'm so sorry you saw that," he said, kneeling beside her. "I'm so sorry, Petra. I didn't mean to scare you."

"What did Aunt Elsa do?"

"She didn't do anything. I was just angry and scared."

"About mama?"

Kristoff nodded. "About your mama, yes."

"Is that... is that why you f-forgot about me?" Petra stammered.

"What are you talking about, sweetheart?"

Petra began to cry. "You p-promised you'd have breakfast with me, Papa, but y-you never came. Did... did I do something wr-wrong?"

Kristoff was ashamed of himself. He, too, wanted to cry right along with her, but he remembered what Elsa said: he needed to be the strong one. Kristoff placed a large, gentle hand on his daughter's shaking shoulder. Though he wanted to pull her close to him in a tight hug, he didn't want to startle her.

"Petra," he began, "I cannot even begin to tell you how sorry I am. You didn't do anything wrong, okay? I was with your mama, and... Petra, I'm so, _so_ sorry. I promise I'll make it up to you. I didn't mean your hurt your feelings. Can you forgive me?"

Petra didn't say anything and refused to look at him, and he honestly couldn't blame her. What kind of father forgot something as simple as breakfast with his child, regardless of the circumstances?

"It's okay if you're mad at me," he whispered. "I understand. But..." he gestured to the pillow and blanket he brought. "I'm really scared about your mama, Petra. I'm so scared. You know how when you have a nightmare and get scared, it helps to come sleep in our room? Well, if it's okay with you, I was wondering if I could sleep in here tonight. I don't want to be alone. I'll go right into that corner over there, on the floor. Is that okay with you, Petra?" When she nodded, still without looking at him, he brushed a gentle hand against her face. "Thank you, Petra. Good night. I love you."

As promised, he set up his makeshift bed in one of the dark corners of Petra's room and closed his eyes. He knew his body was tired, but he was positive it would be quite some time before sleep took him over. Then, within a couple of minutes, he heard and felt a rustle beside him, followed by a tiny body cuddling against his. He opened his eyes to see Petra next to him.

"Sweetheart, are you okay?"

She nodded. "When I'm scared, it helps to be right next to you. I just wanted to make sure you felt safe"

Kristoff pressed a kiss to her forehead. For the first time in three days, he wanted to cry from joy; he was truly blessed to have a daughter who was just as sweet and thoughtful as her mother.

"Thank you, Petra," he murmured. "Thank you so much. But, if you're going to sleep next to me, would you rather go to the big bed?"

When he felt her nod, he carefully scooped Petra up into his arms and carried him to his and Anna's bedchamber. Kristoff tucked her in before sliding in himself. As Petra always did whenever she came to sleep in their bed, she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face against his chest.

"Papa?"

"Yes, Petra?"

"What's wrong with mama?"

"Tell you what," he whispered. "I think we both need some sleep right now. In the morning, we'll get some breakfast, and then we'll talk, okay?"

"Okay," Petra agreed with a small yawn. "Good night. I love you, Papa."

"I love you too, Petra. I love you so much."

Sleep came much faster than Kristoff thought it would, and he would not wake until the light of morning poured through the window.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> I think there will be two more chapters after this. There _might_ be three, but I'm pretty sure two will suffice. Don't hold me to that, though!

As always, thanks for reading! :) See you soon!


	6. Chapter Six

_**Chapter Six**_

Kristoff ventured to Anna's chamber first thing in the morning. He almost allowed himself to hope that she was awake, but he knew better than to set himself up for disappointment. He was positive he'd find Elsa sitting by Anna, who would still be out like a light.

His suspicions were partially confirmed the moment he stepped into the room, only instead of Elsa, he found Marta sitting beside his wife. The woman offered Kristoff a sympathetic smile.

"Where's Elsa?" he queried. "Queen Elsa, I mean."

"The Queen was here for most of the night," Marta informed him. "I took over for her a couple hours ago so she could get some rest. She'd been awake for quite a while."

He didn't even bother asking about Anna. He knew what the answer would be.

"Thank you, Marta."

"Would you like to sit with her again, Sir? I can leave if you need me to."

Kristoff almost accepted the offer, but he knew it was best to decline. If he stayed, he'd be reluctant to leave again, and he couldn't break another promise to Petra. Not to mention, for the first time in days, he was conscious of the furious rumble in his stomach that demanded immediate satiation.

"Perhaps a little later, if you don't mind," he conceded. "I'm going to spend the morning with Petra."

"Of course. Take as long as you need. Either Bergitta or myself will be here."

"Thank you."

After a final nod of appreciation, Kristoff made his way downstairs. The large dining room was hardly ever used for breakfast unless they had visitors, so instead he made his way to the small, less formal room closer to the kitchens. He was mildly surprised to see Petra already sitting at the table, short legs dangling from the chair, but his heart still warmed at the sight of her. It was quickly replaced by guilt when he saw how dejected she looked with her eyes downcast and her mouth curved into a frown as she chewed.

She assumed he'd forgotten her. _Again_.

"Good morning, sweetheart," he said as he sat across from her. Kristoff watched Petra lift her head with a startled look. She smiled when she saw him, a sign of her hasty forgiveness.

"Hello, Papa!"

They were quiet for breakfast, which was mostly Kristoff's fault; once he sat down and saw all the available food in front of him, his body finally allowed him to realize how famished he was. He hardly had the time to taste his meal as he inhaled buttered biscuits and multiple slices of toasted bread covered in various cheeses and meats. Every once in a while, he glanced at Petra, who, after having a little bit of meat, was happily munching on cheesy bread. It had been Anna's snack of choice while she carried Petra, and Kristoff sometimes wondered if that had contributed to it being their daughter's favorite food.

When coupled with a full night's rest, the nourishment helped Kristoff feel like an actual person again, rather than a bag of flesh and bones that merely existed. For the first time in days, his body didn't feel like it had the capability to cave in under its own weight. He even felt he could take a walk without feeling delirious, which was perfect, seeing as a walk in the gardens with his daughter was precisely what he had planned.

After Petra finished her last slice of toasted bread topped with mysost, he invited her to come with him to the gardens. She happily agreed and took his large, calloused hand; hers felt fragile and tender compared to his. After putting on appropriate outerwear, they wordlessly breezed through the palace and exited through one of the back entryways. Petra insisted on stopping by the stables first so she could check in on Lena for her mother. As she fed the white mare and yammered on about everything, Kristoff idly waited in the doorway. He had a hard time visiting the stables with Sven gone. Now more than ever, he longed for the company of his first best friend; Sven had always known what to "say."

As they always were in March, the gardens were covered in the remnants of winter. Lumps of snow still remained, crunching beneath Kristoff and Petra's feet as they trudged off the beaten path. Wet, slimy grass was beginning to poke through in some places due to the sun beginning to linger a bit more each day. It wouldn't take long for Anna's favorite flowers to begin their annual blossom, and Kristoff grimly wondered if she'd be around to see them in all their glory this year.

"Want to have a snowball fight, Papa?" Petra asked with glee. She was practically skipping beside him. "We don't have much longer."

"Maybe another day, my darling."

"Want to make snow angels?"

"Petra..."

"How about a snowman? We could build a snowman!" she suggested with playful laughter. "Do you think there's still enough? It would have to be a little snowman, I think."

"Petra," he gently repeated. "Not today. I'm sorry. Another day, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed in a disappointed hum.

"It's not that I don't want to play, sweetheart," he clarified, squeezing her hand a little. "We just have some things to talk about, remember?"

Petra glanced up at him. "About Mama?"

"Yes, about your mother," he confirmed with a somber nod. "Let's sit down, alright?"

They perched themselves on a low wall surrounding the rosebushes, which was miraculously dry and clear of snow. Kristoff almost pulled Petra into his lap, but after seeing the way she was nibbling on her lower lip and gazing up at him through twinkling, expectant eyes, he knew he would have begun crying if he did so, and he _had_ to stay strong for her.

"Petra," he began as steadily as he could, "your mother had the baby a few days ago."

"The baby's here?! Really?!"

Kristoff nodded, unable to help smiling at her enthusiasm. "You have a brother."

"A brother?! Oh, Papa, I want to meet him! Can I see him?"

"Soon, sweetheart. Soon."

"What's his name?"

"He actually doesn't have one yet," Kristoff confessed.

"Why not?"

He let out a wistful sigh, shifting his body so he was facing her. Kristoff hadn't even considered potential names for his son, much less actually selected one. That was something for him and Anna to share; the only way he'd pick one out alone was when...

_If,_ he reminded himself. _IF she goes. She can still pull through. She can still make it. Don't give up on her yet._

"Petra, your mother... well, your mother is very sick," he said.

"Like I was before Christmas?"

"No, not like that. It's more than a runny nose and a cough. She has a fever."

"How'd she get a fever?"

"Sometimes when mothers have babies, things can go wrong. Your mother had some trouble bringing your brother into the world."

"Did that happen when I was born?" Petra's brows furrowed in confusion as Kristoff shook his head. "So it's my brother's fault?"

"Oh, sweetheart, no," Kristoff countered softly, wincing at the reminder that blaming the boy had been his first instinct, too, in spite of knowing it wasn't true; it had been easier to blame than to hurt. "Things like this are never anyone's fault."

"Then why were you yelling at Aunt Elsa?"

"Petra, I cannot tell you how sorry I am that you saw that. This isn't your aunt's fault, either."

"But you said-"

"I know I said it, sweetheart, but I promise I didn't mean it. You know how you sometimes say things you don't mean when you're upset or scared? That's what happened to me. I was just scared about your mother."

"But Papa," Petra continued, "you said Mama has a fever. She's had one before. She'll be okay. You don't have to be scared."

Kristoff grasped her tiny, gloved hands with his own. He glanced down at the ground, unable to look at his little girl as he prepared to inevitably break her heart. He couldn't lie to her; Petra deserved to know.

"It's more than a fever, Petra," he mumbled. "Having the baby really hurt your mother. She's been asleep since your brother was born."

"When will she wake up? I miss her, Papa. I want to see her."

"I know, sweetheart. I miss her, too."

"Can I go wake her up? She probably misses us, too. Maybe she wants some company while she gets better! We can bring her some soup!"

"Petra-"

"Gerda makes the best soup. If I ask really nicely, maybe she'll make a bowl for me to bring to Mama!"

"Petra," Kristoff interrupted, "it... it's not that simple."

A lump formed in his throat as he watched his daughter's face fall. The enthusiastic smile he loved so much curved into a confused pout. Her eyebrows crinkled, and Kristoff couldn't tell if they did so due to her sadness or because she didn't understand. Perhaps it was both.

"Why not, Papa?" she whimpered. "Does Mama not like me anymore?"

"Petra, your mother loves you more than you'll ever know," he assured her. "I know she would love to see you if she could."

"Why can't she?"

"She can't wake up," Kristoff shakily responded. "Not yet, at least. She needs to sleep while she tries to get better. All we can do is wait and pray. I'm so sorry, Petra."

He felt his chest tighten, almost as if Petra had reached in and crushed his heart with her little fist. Kristoff could hear her breathing begin to waver while she looked down at her lap, seemingly searching for reassurance in her gloved hands. He placed a comforting hand on her back. Normally, Petra would lean into him when he did this, but she remained upright and stout, determined to not show how scared she was.

_So like her mother, _Kristoff thought_. So, _so_ like her mother._

"Papa?" Petra whispered after what seemed like hours. He glanced down at her, giving her shoulder a small squeeze.

"What is it, sweetheart?"

Slowly, Petra raised her head, shifting her teary gaze to Kristoff. Her lips and chin quivered with the obvious attempts to withhold her agony. With all the innocence of a four-year-old, she asked the only thing that could rip her father's soul in two.

"Is Mama going to die?"

He didn't give Petra the choice; Kristoff pulled her against him so she couldn't see him cry. Once she was leaned into him, he could feel Petra quake as the agonizing sobs wracked through her tiny body. And the worst thing was there was _nothing_ he could do to ease her pain because he couldn't lie to her. Kristoff buried his face into her hair, hoping she couldn't feel the tears slipping from his eyes.

"I don't know, sweetheart," Kristoff choked. "I don't know."

* * *

><p>At twilight, Kristoff found himself standing outside the room he'd been afraid to venture into since the birth. He had half a mind to knock, though he wasn't sure why. Part of him wondered if it was because he didn't feel welcome there.<p>

And that, he knew, was entirely his own fault.

Shaking his head, he cracked open the door. It had been so long since he'd heard an infant's cry, so he was surprised the sound still managed to ignite a panic deep within him. Bergitta was holding the wailing baby against her chest, whispering soothing words to him. She looked exhausted and helpless, and he felt terrible; she was a midwife, not a nanny. Caring for his son wasn't her job. He once again thanked the heavens above for her, Marta, and Ingrid; they really were going above and beyond for his family.

"Sir," she gasped when he stepped in. "I-I'm sorry. The nurse fed him within the past hour right after he woke, and he's clean. He's fussy this evening. I'm sorry. I'm trying."

"Bergitta," he said, "please don't apologize. I understand. Petra was like that, too. May I?"

"Sir?"

"May... may I take him?" Kristoff bravely held out his arms to claim his son, bracing himself for the tears to come.

"He's yours, Sir," Bergitta said. "You don't have to ask."

He cradled his son against him, positioning him so his head rested on his sturdy shoulder. The boy's face was twisted in angry crimson and his hands were clenched into tight fists. Kristoff could feel the tension in his son's body as he continued to cry; he was sure the boy could sense what was going on and was probably just as terrified as his sister, as _himself_.

"Thank you, Bergitta. I'll take it from here. Go get some rest, alright?"

Bergitta offered him a cordial nod and curtsy. "Thank you, Sir. Please let me know if you need anything."

As the young woman left the room, Kristoff began to slowly pace across the carpeted floor. He gently fingered his son's ginger hair, drawing tiny circles on his soft scalp.

"There, there," he murmured. "I'm right here. Papa's got you. It's going to be okay, sweetheart."

The baby just further howled in reply, but Kristoff remained oddly calm. Instead of the screams, it was Elsa's voice from the previous day that rang in his ears, reminding him of what he needed to do. Kristoff, however, was only human, and it destroyed him to hear his son cry and know there was nothing he could do to make him feel better.

"I know, sweetheart, I know," he sympathized. "I'm sad, too. I want your mother to wake up just as much as you do. You haven't even met her yet, but you already miss her, don't you? It's hard not to miss her. Your mother is the most wonderful person I've ever known. I didn't know it at the time, but meeting her in that shop was the most important day of my life."

Kristoff adjusted the baby so he was leaning against his other shoulder.

"Your mother... goodness, she's taken me on so many adventures. I was a recluse before I met her. I lived alone and never talked to anyone. I saw nothing but bad and evil, but she opened my eyes to the good things the world had to offer. I mean, I could do without the fancy clothes and being polite to stuffy people, but when I look at what she's given me in return... I can't really complain, can I? She gave me a home. She gave me love. She gave me your sister and you. She's made my life better, made _me_ better, and I don't know what I'll do without her if... if she..."

Kristoff felt the sting in his eyes that was becoming all too familiar as of late, swallowing hard in an attempt to will all of that pressure away. He shifted the baby once more, this time horizontally against his chest so he could look at his son's face. It wasn't until he moved him that Kristoff realized the baby had relaxed; his wails evolved into soft whimpers and his face was a healthier, more subtle pink. The azure eyes of his son gazed expectantly up at him.

"And I'm so, so sorry, sweetheart," he continued. "I'm sorry I haven't been here to hold you or talk to you. I've just been so scared for your mother, and... that's no excuse. You didn't deserve that, sweetheart. I should've been here for you. I'm so sorry."

Kristoff gently took hold of his son's hand, and he felt the tiny fingers instinctively grip his skin.

"I just want you to know that it wasn't because I don't love you," he continued shakily, "because I do. Sweetheart, I love you so, _so_ much. I loved you from the first moment I held you, and I think that's what made it so hard for me to come see you. You remind me _so_ much of your mother. But you know what? I'm seeing now that's a good thing, because I can't imagine anyone else I'd rather you take after."

He leaned forward to kiss his son's forehead, simultaneously giving his hand a tender squeeze.

"What I've been doing for the past few days... it's not going to happen anymore, okay?" Kristoff promised. "No matter what happens, I'm going to be here for you, little guy. I promise to take care of you and give you all the love you deserve. That's what my mother did for me, and... well, I know I'm not your mother, but I am your father, and I'm going to take care of you. I'll never let you go hungry and I'll never let you be cold. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, and I'll never let you go to sleep feeling scared or unloved, okay? That starts now."

He snuggled his son's body closer to his, remembering the one thing that had always helped Petra fall asleep. Kristoff could still remember his own mother singing to him when he was young, and he'd taken the reigns to do the same for his daughter. Perhaps, he decided, it would work for his son, too. Kristoff cleared his throat and began the one lullaby he remembered from boyhood.

_"The darkness of night can be eerie,  
><em>_But sweetheart, don't you weep.  
><em>_Listen to this song  
><em>_And hum right along,  
><em>_And you'll drift calmly to sleep._

_My baby, don't you be worried.  
><em>_Dream sweetly and soundly tonight.  
><em>_But if there is fear,  
><em>_know I am right here  
><em>_To hold you and make it alright._

_Good night.  
><em>_Sleep now 'til morning light."_

By the end of the song, the baby's eyes had grown droopy and his body relaxed in his father's arms. Kristoff softly hummed and swayed from side to side, rocking his son to a peaceful slumber. When the baby's eyes closed and his breathing slowed to an even pace, Kristoff kissed his forehead once more.

"I love you so much, sweetheart," he whispered. "I love you. I'll see you tomorrow, okay? Good night."

Kristoff waited a few minutes to ensure he was indeed asleep, then he placed his son as softly as he could into the nearby bassinet and covered him with a blanket Anna had knitted herself. After a tender brush of his hand against the boy's cheek, he departed the room, quietly closing the door behind him. Marta was in the corridor, having been patiently waiting to take her shift with the little one.

"He's asleep," Kristoff confirmed.

"Good. He's... he's had a rough couple of days."

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "Thank you all so much for staying. You... you didn't have to."

"Sir," Marta said, "we are happy to help in any way we can, and are honored to do so."

"Thank you," he repeated.

With a final nod, Kristoff trudged down the corridor. As he promised Elsa, he would rest at night. However, he did not promise he'd do so in his own room. It had been a full day since he'd spent an adequate amount of time at Anna's side, and that, in his opinion, was long enough.

When he arrived in Anna's chamber, he found Ingrid sitting at her side, and he vaguely wondered if the three midwives had made an agreement to share their time between Anna, the baby, and their beds.

"Sir," Ingrid whispered when she saw him, "I was wondering when you'd arrive."

Kristoff nodded. "H-how is she?"

"The same," she answered sadly. "She feels slightly cooler, but she has not stirred yet."

He knew better than to let a small shred of good news give him hope.

"Thank you," he said. "May I...?"

"Of course. Please fetch me if you need anything."

Ingrid swiftly left the room. Kristoff claimed the vacant chair and grasped Anna's hand; the action was second nature to him at this point. Her flesh was still heated to the touch. He looked at her head and face, and if he was remembering correctly, everything was in the exact same position as it was before. Anna's cheeks were still void of any color, and even as she slept, she looked exhausted and weak.

In a futile attempt to wake her, he leaned forward and kissed her lips. Though the action was chaste, he put every ounce of love he could into it. _An act of true love will thaw a frozen heart, _he remembered Grand Pabbie saying years ago. If he really was her true love, perhaps he could save her simply by kissing her, but he knew the idea was silly the second he pulled away, because Anna still looked lifeless. Her heart wasn't frozen; in fact, it was too warm.

Kristoff wanted to be like Anna. He yearned for her optimism and steadfast belief that everything will turn out alright in the end, no matter what. But his kiss, as far-fetched as it was, had been his last resort, and having it not work extinguished the last flame of hope in his heart.

_You're not coming back, are you?_ he thought solemnly.

New tears streamed down his face and his entire core shook, but the act of crying was becoming so common for Kristoff that he didn't even notice.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> I am so, _so_ sorry for the delay with this chapter. It fought me so hard and went through three rewrites, and to be honest, I'm still not completely satisfied with it. However, I did discover that the problem was it was too long; I had to cut a out and save it for later. So, in a nutshell, this will end up being eight chapters instead of seven. Two more to go! Not sure if that's good or bad.

Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter Seven

_**Chapter Seven**_

In the early hours of the morning while the sky remained dark, Kristoff was roused from a very bizarre dream. He'd been in the rose garden with Petra and his nameless son. It had seemed to be sometime in the future as the boy was already walking, albeit wobbly, and Petra's hair was a bit longer. Even Olaf had been there, chasing butterflies with the children and sharing stories about his very first summer. Kristoff, meanwhile, had been sitting off to the side, watching and laughing.

_Alone_.

Anna wasn't there.

That's what woke him up.

Kristoff was shaken awake by the realization that his wife hadn't been at his side. It took his eyes a moment to adjust, but even before he was able to see, he knew he was in Anna's chamber because of the warmth against his cheek. He'd fallen asleep with his head rested upon her chest. His hand, having been holding hers as he slept, was clammy with sweat, so he wiped it on his tunic before rubbing his eyes. He leaned back and outstretched his arms to relieve his tightened muscles before grasping her hand again.

It didn't take long for the hopelessness from hours before to settle back in. The dream hadn't helped matters; for the first time he could remember, he'd dreamt of a future without Anna, and a happy one at that. What if that was a sign? What if his subconscious was warning him that he was going to lose her and he should prepare to move on? As awful as it might be, what if that dream was, in fact, something that was actually going to happen?

He caught himself chewing on his lower lip as he attempted to will away the oncoming tears, and he had half a mind to chuckle. When, he wondered, had he picked up Anna's trademark nervous habit? She'd done that within twenty seconds of meeting him all those years ago in Oaken's, and though he would have never admitted it at the time, he'd thought it was the cutest thing.

_Would you think I look cute, too, Anna?_ Kristoff thought. _Probably not. I probably look like a damn fool, right? Could you tell me that, love? C'mon. Wake up, take a look at me, and tell me how stupid I look. Please? Wake up and tell me I'm an idiot. Laugh at me. I just want to see you smile again. I want to hear your voice. Please, Anna?_

As expected, she didn't respond; it was probably why, all of a sudden, he was flooded with reminders of a happy Anna, all cheerful with rosy cheeks and dimples. They were the cherished memories that kept him going, that reminded him that life was worth living even in the darkest of times. He had nearly eight years worth of them.

_Eight years_. It was a long time, yet they flashed trough his mind at the speed of sound. Their courtship, their engagement, their wedding, their children, their _love_. Those eight years were the only worthwhile ones he'd lived through, and selfish as he was certain it was, it didn't feel like enough. He wanted more time.

_No_, he corrected to himself. _She_ deserves _more time_.

Kristoff would have given anything for the heavens to take him in her place. He'd never expected to live a long life, anyway. Even while he was growing up, he always figured he'd be dead by thirty. It's wasn't as if the world would have missed him. He'd been too poor and talentless to be relevant; in his mind, he'd merely existed and took up space. Sometimes, he still feared he'd wake up one morning, cold and alone on the side of the mountain, to discover that his life with Anna was nothing more than a beautiful dream.

But Anna... _she_ was worth something. She had something to offer. If he were to die, only a handful would mourn him, but all would mourn Anna, and rightfully so, in his opinion. Anna was the type of person who touched everyone she met, even in a small way. She had an infectious smile and a spirit that could turn even the most hopeless of souls toward the light; Kristoff himself was living proof of that. Yes, he had a family now, and yes, he knew he was important to them, but more important than _Anna_? His children needed her far more, and to think of her being taken from Petra when she was so young, to think of their son never even _knowing_ her...

It just wasn't _fair_, and there was nothing anyone could do to change it. All Kristoff could hope for was for it to be as painless as possible.

He lifted a shaking hand to move a stray lock of hair from her face, recalling the way her red mane had glimmered in the golden sunset the first night he'd taken her out on a proper date. As he tucked it away, his hand grazed against the skin of her cheek. It was just as smooth as the first time he kissed it, and he remembered the way it had turned pink immediately after he pulled away. He hadn't dwelled on it, however, because he'd been too busy shifting toward her lips.

_Eight years of kisses_.

He looked wistfully at her closed eyes, knowing that the most brilliant shade of azure was hiding beneath them – the azure that had managed to pierce his soul with the briefest glance and make his entire being weak.

_Eight years of loving gazes_.

Anna's arms were limp beside her, but Kristoff knew better. They may not have been able to lift many heavy things, but they were still the strongest arms he'd ever known. The way they'd tenderly cradled Petra when she was a baby, the way they'd been a delicate comfort to Sven when he was sick, they way they'd held Kristoff and made any negative feeling he may have had go away.

_Eight years of embraces_.

He watched her chest rise and fall, a reminder that she was still there, still _fighting_. It was the most resilient of hearts that beat within her. It was because of that heart Arendelle thawed. It was because of that heart he was _happy_. Once upon a time, he'd thought it was in their best interests if they went their separate ways, thinking she deserved so much better, but that heart had fought for him, for _them_. Their children wouldn't have existed if it hadn't been for Anna; even he may have already been a forgotten memory.

_Eight years of love_.

Kristoff leaned forward to softly caress her lips. She did not reciprocate, but that was okay, because this one wasn't about them. It was about _her_. He needed her to feel it, all of it. If she was going to go, she had to know how important she was, how loved she was. She needed to know that she'd been the ultimate blessing in his petty little life and that she wasn't alone.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Kristoff wouldn't allow himself to cry. If Anna had any ability to hear or feel him, the last thing he wanted was for her to know how much he was hurting. He abruptly left the room, the corridor, the second floor, the _palace_. Before he even realized it himself, Kristoff was walking along the cobblestone bridge that linked the castle's gates with Arendelle. The only other time he'd felt so dejected walking across it was the very first time he was there. Only this time, he had no choice in the matter of leaving Anna behind.

That made it so much worse.

He walked for five, ten, fifteen minutes at the very least before picking his head up. Kristoff's eyes were greeted with the now familiar set of colossal oak doors. Once again, he could feel Anna's influence on him. In the years before he'd known her, this was the last place his feet would have carried him, yet there he was as if it were second nature.

Kristoff pulled the doors open to reveal the vast, high room that was only dimly lit at such a late hour. The church looked strange, as Kristoff was accustomed to attending when it was filled with patrons, but there wasn't a soul inside except for him. Even with all of the available seats, he sat in the same pew he shared with Anna and their family each Sunday without a second thought. Kristoff gazed around the place. There was a certain eeriness to it all in the absence of people, music, and sunlight, but he still didn't move.

_Because this is what Anna would do,_ he thought.

"Hello?" he spoke. "God? Sorry, I... I've never really done this before. Praying, I mean. I've seen Anna and Petra do it, but they never say anything out loud, so... sorry."

Kristoff wondered if he was even supposed to _talk _to God. Maybe he was just supposed to _think_ to God and have faith that his message would be received. He didn't want to take that chance, though. If he ever needed a supreme being to hear him, it was now.

"Sorry," he repeated. "I'm Kristoff. Kristoff Bjorgman. You probably knew that, but... well, you have a lot of people to watch over, so I just wanted to be sure. I'm sorry I don't talk to you often. Truthfully, while I was growing up, I had a hard time believing you existed. Sometimes I still wonder, but Anna believes in you, and... well, if someone like me was granted a life with her, that has to mean you're real, right?"

_Stop blabbing and get to the point,_ he silently scolded himself. _You don't have a lot of time._

"Anyway, I'm guessing you know Anna rather well. She talks to you a lot. Talks to _everyone _a lot, really. I'm sure you know this, but she's sick. _Very_ sick. She had trouble with the baby and... and it doesn't look good. I know she's fighting it because that's what Anna does, but... I... I don't think it's going to be enough this time."

He took several deep breaths in a failed attempt to quell the watery strain on his eyes. It only took seconds for little rivers to stream down his face.

"I know what you're thinking," he choked out. "You think I'm going to beg you to save her, but I'm not. I... I know better. Miracles only come once in a lifetime, and I've already used mine up. _She_ was mine. She... she saved my life. I likely wouldn't be here if it weren't for her. I would have starved or froze alone in the woods, or I would have lost all hope and drank myself to death. I'm so lucky, _so_ blessed. I... I'm not going to be greedy. I'm not going to ask for more than I deserve. I'm just here to tell you... if she really does have to go, that... that it's _okay_."

The unrelenting sob he'd been fighting since he stepped through the doors violently shook him to the core as he lost any remaining control he had on his emotions. He slipped off the bench and fell to his knees, burying his face in his trembling hands as he cried. He'd thought he knew what pain felt like. Falling through ice into freezing water, going for days without food, getting knocked unconscious by those who'd stolen from him... all of that tickled in comparison to this. It was like a large chunk of him was being viciously torn away from him. He couldn't breathe. The tears streaming from his eyes were the evidence of his bleeding heart as it was shredded into nothing.

"I don't want to lose her," he bawled. "I don't want to say goodbye. But if it's going to happen... please, God, do it now. _Please_, just do it now. I know she's in pain, and I know she's fighting with every bit of energy she has left, but you can't let her do that anymore. She can't go this way. She doesn't deserve that. She should go peacefully. It's too soon for her to leave, so please, at least afford her that. Let her go without pain. Please, _please_ don't let her suffer anymore."

Kristoff paused to wipe his eyes. After doing so, he lifted his head and looked at the ceiling. Brass lamps glowing amber hung from it. It was beautiful.

"And if Anna's somehow talking to you," he wept, "I know what she's saying. She's arguing with you, telling you she can pull through. She never backs down. If... if that's what's happening, please tell her to let go. Please let her know everything's going to be alright. Make sure she knows our son is healthy and well, and that I promise to do everything I can to give him and Petra the lives they should have. Tell her I'll always make sure they have plenty of blankets and that they get everything they want at Christmas and that they'll get to taste chocolate often. And make sure she knows she'll _never_ be forgotten," he emphasized. "I'll never let our children forget who she was. They'll know her through all the stories I have to share. And _please_, God, make sure she knows how much she's loved."

His wails mellowed to heavy breaths and his tears slowed, leaking quietly from the chocolate eyes which stared straight ahead at nothing at all.

"I love her," he whispered. "I love her _so_ much. She knows that, but please remind her for me, just so she can hear it one last time. Tell her she's not alone because I'll always carry her with me. And let her know I'll be as good of a person as I can be so when it's my turn, I'll be able to see her again. I'll do everything I can to make sure our time apart is only temporary. I never much cared about the idea of Heaven, but if that's where she's going – and I _know_ she is – then that's where I want to be, too."

Kristoff wasn't sure how long he remained in the empty church, but by the time he left, he knew sunrise wasn't far off. The black sky was royal blue by the time he arrived back at the gates. The man standing guard didn't greet him as he normally would, but instead nodded sympathetically. Everyone knew about Anna at this point, and not a single person had escaped grief. She was _that_ special.

He ended up in the small room near the kitchen where he'd shared breakfast with Petra the morning before. After finding a clean goblet, he dunked it in a bucket of water he knew was left clean for drinking. Kristoff mindlessly sipped from it as he stood in front of the window.

The sun was slowly rearing its head. It was still early, so everything was silhouetted against the brightening sky. The mountains looked like black patches sewn onto golden fabric. Heaven was awake. It looked so... _inviting_.

_This is perfect, _he thought solemnly. _I can't think of a better place for her to go, God. It looks warm and happy. It's so much better than that chamber she's laying in. Anna will love this. Please... stop her pain. Let her go to this, okay? _

"Sir?" came a voice from behind him.

Kristoff narrowed his reddened eyes and turned toward the voice. Ingrid was standing in the doorway. The woman looked just as tired as he felt. She nearly took a step into the room, but stopped, seemingly unsure.

"I... I've been looking for you, Sir."

"I just had to step out for a while," he mumbled.

"I understand," Ingrid said. "I was sitting with the Princess while you were gone."

"Who's with her now? Bergitta?"

"No one."

All air escaped his lungs. He didn't want to ask, but the words were out before her could stop himself.

"Why?" he breathed.

"Sir... I have news," she began.

Kristoff's mouth went dry and his ears rang so loudly that he didn't even hear the shattering of glass as the goblet slipped from his hand and collided with the floor.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Sorry for the delay. One chapter to go. See you then, and thank you for reading!


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